no more difficult steps
no more tortuous excursions to the window, the toilet, the door
no more strong determined fragile tired tired smiles
her life has shrunk to this room
this bed
absorbed now in the process of each breath
she is so preoccupied with the business of dying
she is too busy for living
she
the primary she
my beginning and ending
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loss sometimes demands to be recognised wallowed bathed submerged in indulged Felt A friend of a friend described it as the "dark luxur... -
not so lost for words these days pouring spewing out in jumbles inspiration of desperation I was not so wordy before nor ever so deeply sile...
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We'd known it was the last time though no one said this task you'd set upon with borrowed help in borrowed hours and days determined...
1 comment:
oh. tingles.
i know exactly what you mean. that confinement to the bed, and the realisation that it is her deathbed. that awful knowing.
oh letty.
sorry i have only just seen these
x
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